


proper etiquette and correct posture

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM Or Something, Blow Jobs, M/M, sub training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7250803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux sex-trains Kylo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	proper etiquette and correct posture

Hux pauses before the door of the training room where Kylo Ren has been instructed to wait for him, the 'posture-correcting collar' he's holding seeming to grow heavier with every moment of hesitation. It's a ridiculous thing, bright red and made of stiff armor-grade nanoplastic, shiny as a Storm Trooper's breastplate and likewise contoured to embrace the point of anatomy it was made to cover; in this case, Kylo Ren's sturdy white throat. It was almost certainly chosen for the express purpose of humiliating him, and Kylo Ren doesn't bear indignity with any sort of grace.

“Come in.” A mild sort of brainstem shock accompanies the order, indicating that Ren has grown impatient with Hux's dithering. Hux steels himself and steps into the chamber, which is small and square and featureless, containing not much more than four padded walls and Kylo Ren, unmasked and lightly dressed as if for sparring, sitting propped against one of them.

“I know what your orders are, General.” He smiles at Hux, lasciviously mocking, his bright lips drawn taut over his teeth. “What chance do you think you have of executing them?”

“I have permission to restrain you if necessary.” It won't be necessary, Hux thinks, as long as he gets the collar on Ren's neck. He's in no real danger, he reminds himself, steeling his nerves and squaring his shoulders again, trying to look as authoritative as possible. Ren is an unpredictable creature, prone to moods and fits and sulks, and Hux is not as convinced as Leader Snoke that 'a firm but gentle hand' and this red plastic collar will make the least bit of difference.

To Hux's surprise, Ren submits docilely to having the collar cinched and buckled around his neck. The smooth material is warm from Hux's hands, and Hux ensures it isn't fastened tightly enough to cause Ren any discomfort. He praises Ren as per Snoke's instructions, gently smoothing his hair away from his face and brushing a thumb across his cheek and jaw in a broad stroking movement.

“Good boy.” Ren glowers at him, and Hux snatches his hand away. Ren's face has begun to color, and his chest as well, a pale pinkish flush just visible above the opening of his loose robe.

“I'm not going to bite you, idiot.”

“You've been instructed not to speak unless addressed directly by the individual conducting your training, in this case, me. I didn't ask you to speak, Ren.”

“Go sit on a bantha's dick, Hux.” Ren rolls his eyes, and Hux slips a hand into his coat pocket and fingers the buttons on the console remotely connected to his training collar. He's surprised at how satisfying it is to slam the heel of his hand down on the large button in the center and watch Ren writhe back at the unexpected electric shock, his whole body going momentarily rigid and his head colliding with the fortunately padded wall. Ren isn't done raging, but every time his mouth opens on some half-formed obscenity, Hux pounds on the button again. Ren is reduced to crawling along the floor towards Hux and swiping at his ankles, but he gives that up when Hux delivers a swift booted kick to the tender part of his chest, just below the collar and between his tensed pectoral muscles.

“Are you ready to continue your training?” Ren only stares and pants and trembles, but from the look on his face he's figured out where Hux is keeping the remote control device and is trying to gather the Force to him in order to retrieve it. Hux doesn't think he can manage it in his current state, but gives him another shock just for good measure.

“Answer me, Ren. Are you ready to continue?”

Ren nods, still looking murderous. He's flushed and cowering and visibly damp with sweat, but the collar forces his chin up, renders him unable to drop his head to his chest.

“I need verbal confirmation.” Hux is still wary, as in his experience provoking Ren's temper has never not resulted in carnage of one form or another, but he has his directives to follow; and a certain perverse curiosity, some part of him that has always wanted to see Ren's rage pushed to its limits.

_Yes._ Ren's voice, inside Hux's head, is inflectionless, though his face is still contorted in a magnificent open-mouthed sneer, his teeth bared and gritted as if he's imagining sinking them into any vulnerable part of Hux he can reach.

“Do you not understand the meaning of the word 'verbal'?” Hux fingers the remote control, an unfamiliar swelling sensation of warmth and well-being filling him at the thought of having such power over Kylo Ren; one touch of a button, and Ren's concentration is broken, his mind and body efficiently and utterly chastised. It's a wonder Snoke hadn't thought of this years ago.

_I will cause you such pain_ , Ren says, the projection of his voice louder now, as if gathering strength. _I will tear you limb from limb, crush your bones, liquify your internal organs, flay your smug face from your skull--_ Hux hits the button with particular relish, dropping Ren to the floor. Hux keeps him there, stands over him with a boot planted firmly in the center of Ren's chest as he chokes and heaves in blind agony, lashing out with all four limbs, whining and gnashing his teeth in a display of impotent fury that's impressive even for him. When the onslaught is over, Ren struggles to rise, and Hux crouches next to him and helps him to his feet.

“Are you ready to be more respectful now? You may say 'yes, master' or 'yes, General Hux' if you feel you can continue.”

“Yes,” Ren grits out, then, after some seconds have elapsed, “master.”

“Good boy.” Hux repeats the reinforcement technique, stroking Ren's sweaty hair away from his face. He's seldom had the opportunity to study Ren's face at such close quarters, and in such uncompromising light. His petulance is familiar, that disdainful twist to his lips; but Hux is surprised to find something almost attractive in the deep-set warmth of Ren's eyes, gleaming as they are now with tears of pain and frustration.

“I'd like you to undress and kneel on the floor with your hands behind your back. You may say 'yes, master' if you intend to comply with these instructions.”

“Yes, master.” Ren's tone is sarcastic, and he can't seem to help rolling his eyes, but he obeys. He divests himself quickly and neatly of his thin robe and drawstring-waisted trousers and kneels at Hux's feet, his hands clasping each other behind his back. More praise is necessary; Hux croons his appreciation, running a gentle hand down Ren's side to his hip. Ren doesn't recoil, seems instead to relax minutely into the touch in a way that leads Hux to suspect he enjoys it.

“So funny.” Hux strokes Ren's lean white flank again, admiring the subtle movements of muscles beneath his skin, the beauty and utility of his finely-trained body. “Has no one ever touched you like this before?” Ren's only response is gritted teeth, a pained expression like he's desperately trying to resist the urge to say something rude.

_Do you really expect me to answer that?_

“Verbal, Ren. Yes, I'd like you to answer the question.” Hux is unsure how to proceed from this point, having only been advised by Snoke to use his discretion. He'd supposed that once Ren was collared and kneeling, inspiration would come to him, and it does. A familiar sight to his mind's eye; Ren, or anyway someone who looked a great deal like him, parting his lips for Hux's cock, taking its entire length smoothly and swiftly down his throat while Hux pets and praises and studies him at his leisure. An opportunity to judge and scorn every feature of that face, the too-big nose and wide shapeless mouth, the scattered moles and freckles like flecks of dirt that wouldn't wipe away. His face is too plain, Hux thinks, plain and youthful and innocent of any kind of shrewdness, makes him look, in fact, as gormless as a cud-chewing bantha when the features aren't contorted in one of his frequent rages.

“No one,” Ren singsongs like a bored schoolboy, “has ever touched me like this before. And no one has ever been so suicidally dense as to attempt to stick his cock in my mouth.”

“Well-read, boy. What an entertaining trick.” Hux grasps Ren's upturned face in both hands, presses his thumb to the soft pink swell of Ren's lower lip. Ren actually gasps, and tilts his head towards Hux when he pulls away, as if yearning for his touch.

“You're very sensitive there, aren't you? It's fortunate that your mouth hasn't been spoiled by rough handling.”

“Would you like to have your dick bitten off, General?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Ren.”

“You think I'm no better than a beast.”

“You know perfectly well what I think.” Hux draws his fingers through Ren's hair again, drags his head to one side and then the other, amused by how tolerant Ren is of this demeaning treatment. “You're a great deal smarter than you look, aren't you?”

“And you're not as clever as you think you are.”

“I'm not here to match wits with you.” Hux slips his thumb between Ren's lips, and Ren bites him; lightly, warningly, barely more than a nip with those big crooked teeth. Hux withdraws from him altogether, crosses his arms on his chest and stands observing Ren from a far less intimate distance; again, he seems distressed by the loss of contact, as if in spite of all his snarling and hackle-raising he really just wants Hux to touch him.

“I believe you can be gentled, Ren. There are few sources of pleasure in your life. You've rejected your family, denied yourself the comforts of those close ties. You sleep alone. Sleeping and waking, you're always alone.” Hux closes the distance between them again, traces his fingers over Ren's lips, attempts to pry his tightly closed jaws apart. “Open your mouth. I'm going to show you something.”

“You still think you're going to fuck my mouth, don't you?”

“Can you suggest a better use for it?”

“You're not going to make me your whore.” Hux strokes the back of Ren's neck with one hand, the other wedging his mouth open, fingers probing gently at his lips and tongue.

“I'm going to do whatever is necessary to keep you under control.” Hux eases two fingers into Ren's mouth, held tightly together, pressing down flat on his tongue. Ren gags quietly, and Hux feels the sharp edges of his teeth; still no more than an empty threat, not even hard enough to bruise. “You're a domesticated creature at heart. You only need to be shown how to behave.” At this Ren does snap at him, teeth sinking into Hux's skin; he locks his jaws around the fingers in his mouth and refuses to let go until Hux gives him another good hard jolt with the shock collar. Then he backhands Ren swiftly across the face, leaving his own blood streaked over Ren's nose and cheekbones. Hux realizes he's breathing heavily now, lightheaded with pain, blood still welling thickly from his wounded hand as Ren watches him with a distinct air of satisfaction.

“Is that what you wanted?” Ren sneers, bared teeth gleaming in his bloodied face. “Idiot. You can't even control yourself, can you?”

“I can't say I wasn't expecting you to lash out like that, but it is quite a show of force.” Hux takes a handkerchief from his pocket and binds it tightly around his fingers. The bite isn't deep, but the potential for infection is more than Hux wants to take his chances with. He retreats to medbay with a suspicion that he's failed, that Snoke's faith in his ability to command Kylo Ren was misplaced. Once his wound has been properly disinfected and bandaged, however, he returns to the training room to find Ren waiting for him. No longer kneeling, but still naked, lounging with his back propped against the wall and his long muscular legs splayed in front of him.

“Resume your position,” Hux says, and Ren smirks at him but does as commanded, arranging himself on his knees again with his arms held behind his back. Hux has acquired another piece of hardware, and he removes it from his pocket and holds it up for Ren to admire; a thick metal ring dangling from a pair of straps, shiny bright red to match the correcting collar.

“Should have thought of that before.” Ren doesn't struggle when Hux fits the ring between his jaws and fastens the straps tightly behind his head, only looks at him with that same challenge in his eyes. Steady, piercing, pure mockery. Even with his mouth forced open around the ring gag, he retains a kind of haughty dignity. Hux slips his fingers into Ren's mouth again, noting with satisfaction that he's begun to drool.

“I am going to fuck your mouth now, Ren. And you're left with no choice but to take it, because your snapping and snarling doesn't matter to me. You bite because you don't know any better, but you will know better. You can be trained. It's only a matter of applying the proper stimuli.” Hux pulls himself out of his trousers with his good hand- his off hand, as it happens-- and rests the other at the back of Ren's neck. He strokes Ren there, gently and steadily, as he eases his cock into the metal ring. It's already warmed and slicked by Ren's mouth, and Ren's tongue flicks upward as Hux grasps the back of his head and starts to thrust; whether in attempted protest or not, it's hard to tell, but the end result is the same, and he does after all look rather attractive on his knees with his mouth strapped open for Hux's cock.

“Good work, Ren.” Hux keeps stroking him, his throat and his shoulders and his chest, all those seldom-seen parts of him beginning to flush pink with shame and exertion and Hux can tell he's straining against the gag, trying to force his jaws together. Tears and saliva glaze his upturned face, drip slowly from his chin.

Hux had thought he would feel self-conscious praising and petting Ren like this, rewarding him for his compliant behavior as instructed by Snoke; but it comes to him easily, all this cooing and gentleness, his fingers stroking and smoothing Ren's too-long hair which he'd always thought looked as though it'd be coarse to the touch like a horse's mane but is in fact marvelously soft against his skin.

“You're doing very well,” Hux tells him, Ren's face cupped in both of his hands now, Ren's eyes still open and burning into his. Ren's posture is, for once, irreproachable; his spine is straight, his head held high, his chin forced up by the training collar. Tears stream from his eyes unchecked, dampening his long dark lashes, and all the while Hux keeps telling him what a good boy he is, what a little beauty, what a truly lovely creature and how good he's going to feel when Hux comes down his throat, how proud he should be of himself for giving his master such pleasure.

“That's very good, Ren, isn't it?” Hux withdraws, strokes himself over Ren's stretched lips, comes all over his face and chest because he honestly can't help himself at this point. Ren blinks away his tears, but remains obediently in position, his arms held behind his back. He looks more annoyed than anything at this point, as if Hux is the one always making messes that he has to clean up and this is only more of the same.

Hux drags Ren's head towards him by the hair, though he's certainly not hard again and honestly his refractory period just isn't what it used to be but it's not for lack of visual stimulation. He plunges his fingers into Ren's open mouth again, teasing him, feeling the air practically vibrate with Ren's desire to sink his teeth into Hux's flesh but all he does is kneel there looking put-upon, and Hux takes this opportunity to admire how solid and thick with strength Ren's body is, how good it looks clothed in nothing but Hux's come.

He's not entirely merciless, however. He unbuckles the gag and allows Ren to spit it out. He lifts a container of water to Ren's lips and advises him to drink, and Ren does, greedily, letting it spill from his parted lips, grunting and huffing like he's just run a hundred miles.

“You can speak now, Ren. Don't you have something to say?”

“This amuses you, doesn't it? Treating me like an animal.”

“Supreme Leader feels it's the most efficient way to correct your behavior. Now, what else do you think you ought to say to me?”

“You're a smug useless imbecile and your face offends me.” Incorrect answer, of course. Hux activates the shock collar again, sees Ren brace himself as if he were expecting it. It doesn't throw him off balance this time; he grits his teeth through the pain, maintains his position somehow stubbornly.

“I'm sorry to hear that, Ren. I was really coming around to liking your face.” Anyway, it looks a lot better covered in sweat and tears and come and Hux has become aware of a perverse longing to kiss Ren's pink and swollen lips, to taste and savor the great sticky mess he's made of Ren's dignity.

“Kiss me and you'll lose your tongue, General. Haranguing the troops is about all you're good for, isn't it?”

“There are a great many other things I can do.” Hux grasps Ren's chin with one hand and kisses his loose wet mouth, tasting the salt and slickness of his tears, the musk and bitterness of his own come on Ren's lips. “Suppose your training went well, that I were very pleased with you... under those circumstances I might be sufficiently moved to suck your cock.” Hux is aroused again, nibbling Ren's lips, acutely aware with all his senses of the presence of Ren's solid and pliant body before him; the taste of his tears, the damp salty smell of his sweat, the muscular firmness of his chest and the warmth and smoothness of his skin. Ren's dark nipples and flushed chest, scattered freckles and fine dark hairs, the polished-stone whiteness of his firm and gleaming throat.

“Suck your own cock,” Ren mutters, but there's no conviction in it. By the look on his face he sees what Hux sees, is taken aback by the sudden destructive force of Hux's desire. And Hux doesn't want Ren, not exactly, but he wants to watch him fall, to bring him to his knees with something other than brusque commands and quick fingers on the shock collar's control pad.

“I may as well. You certainly haven't pleased me enough yet.” Hux stands, crouches again to remove the training collar from Ren's neck. Ren's brow is furrowed, his mouth open as if he might protest, but he says nothing. Hux watches him dress, more than once catches him briefly pressing his fingers to his throat.


End file.
